The Book of Words
by Sir Miles
Summary: A collection of poetry I wrote based on The Book of Words trilogy by J. V. Jones.
1. Lake Ormond Over the Falls

I wrote this for Tawl, after he goes 'over the falls' to prove himself.  
  
Lake Ormond (Over the Falls)  
  
Up, up, from the depths of the water.  
Up, to the light.  
  
From the green darkness I climb,  
Born anew.  
A new breath to clear my lungs.  
A new sun to clear my eyes.  
A new love to clear my heart.  
I am born anew.  
  
Up, up, from the depths of the soul.  
Up, to the light.  
  
From the black stillness I climb,  
Born anew.  
A new cause to clear my guilt.  
A new path to clear my footsteps.  
A new life to clear my dreams.  
I am born anew.  
  
Up, up, from the depths of the water.  
Through death I climb,  
Until I am cold no more.  
Up, to the light. 


	2. Baking

Written for the 'Baker's Boy', it was inspired by the end of Master and  
Fool.  
  
Baking  
  
Bringing flour-covered hands to dough,  
Allowing the unformed bread to roll beneath my fingers,  
Kneading in time to my heartbeat --  
Everything in time to my heartbeat --  
Running aromas assail my nose;  
Sights and smells mingle in perfection.  
  
Beyond the kneading comes the rising.  
Overflowing, spilling outward, trying to be in everything --  
Yet all in time with my heartbeat. 


	3. Es Nil Hesrl

The knights of Valdis from Tyren's point of view. Ironic, and sad.  
  
Es Nil Hesrl  
  
When will they finally figure it out?  
That it is just an empty phrase?  
They will always be unworthy,  
If they set their standards too high.  
No one can ever be worthy  
In their own eyes.  
So why try?  
It will all end in death.  
Es nil hesrl. 


	4. Larn

It's about Larn, what else?  
  
Larn  
  
Empty.  
It is all empty.  
He has taken the spirit of Larn.  
And our minds are left blank.  
No longer does the rock pulse.  
No longer does the ocean break up on the shore,  
In time with the heart of Larn.  
For Larn is gone.  
He has gone, and taken it with him.  
It is in him, filling him.  
And we are left with nothing.  
Simply...  
Empty. 


	5. Mine

Baralis' poem.  
  
Mine  
  
The darkness is mine.  
I have tamed it, caressed it,  
Spoken to it.  
And it is mine.  
Soon, it will all be mine.  
When those men have passed on,  
And all has turned to ash beneath my feet,  
I will know it is all mine.  
And then my rule will truly begin. 


	6. More Watered Chestnuts, Your Eminence?

Oh, I love this one! A very ironic satire about Gamil and Tavalisk.  
  
More Watered Chestnuts, Your Eminence?  
  
The man is a fool!  
Honestly!  
To think that he could be chosen  
For anything else except official taste-tester.  
It's ludicrous!  
He sits behind his desk  
All day  
Every day.  
I am the one who really does all the work.  
Even the menial tasks  
He sets just to spite me.  
"Gamil, see to my cat.  
Gamil, buy me a fish.  
Gamil, bring me more wine."  
Little does he know that I  
Only I  
Hold the true power of the city!  
Let Silbur think that stuffed goose holds it.  
Let Tavalisk preen and strut himself.  
While I work quietly away in the background,  
Corresponding with Larn,  
And proceeding to change the course of history!  
Honestly!  
The man is a fool! 


	7. Mornings

One from Nabber's point of view. He is my favorite character, and so easy  
to write from, too!  
  
Mornings  
  
I hate mornings.  
When it is wet and cold, and you haven't had a decent breakfast  
Of honey and cheese.  
When the night is rapidly departing,  
But the sun has yet to show his face.  
When all the people have disappeared,  
Leaving only empty pockets.  
  
I should have been a sailor.  
Captain of my own ship.  
Standing proud at the helm of my own ship,  
Not sitting blindfolded in the crow's nest,  
Or crouching barefooted in the hold,  
But just standing free,  
With sea breezes on my face,  
And laughter in my heart.  
But I'd still hate mornings.  
  
I should have been a knight.  
Defender of truth and justice,  
Protector and savior.  
Tall, majestic, and proud.  
I could sally forth triumphantly,  
My mail glistening in the sunlight,  
My eyes bright with purpose,  
As I set out on an adventure.  
But I'd still hate mornings.  
  
I am a pocket.  
Able to crawl, sneak, dodge, and pilfer with the best of them.  
I can get into any kind of trouble --  
And out of it, too.  
But the best part of being a pocket  
Is the work hours, from night to endless night, working in tantalizing  
darkness.  
Because I hate mornings. 


	8. Prophecy

Taken from a scene in whichever book, between Tawl and Bevlin.  
  
Prophecy  
  
I shivered as the words left my mouth.  
Prophecy.  
I wanted to clamp my teeth shut, to prevent anything more from coming.  
What would I say?  
What harm could I do, unwittingly?  
The boy before me --  
For that is what he was, a boy, though older by far than when I had last  
seen him --  
The boy before me knew.  
Prophecy.  
I felt it pressing down on me,  
And knew it was ten thousand times worse for him. 


	9. Resting

Written for Maybor. I think his funeral song would go something like this.  
  
Resting  
  
Through shadows dark'ning into night,  
Beyond the Western Sea,  
Behind the uns'passed tree in height:  
There Death will wait for thee.  
  
Nestled next to beech and willow,  
Cushioned by the flowing river,  
Down, to sleep in peace forever:  
There, Death will shelter thee. 


	10. Tavalisk

Another one from Nabber's point of view. Gotta love him!  
  
Tavalisk  
  
I once met the archbishop of Rorn.  
Tavalisk, his name was,  
And he looked like an overstuffed pig  
That you would lay out on feast-days.  
  
He was eating when I saw him.  
I think he would eat everything in sight if he could.  
When he swallowed, all his multitudes of chins  
Went cascading down over his throat.  
(Needless to say, it wasn't a pretty sight.)  
  
If truth be told,  
I would rather have been a million miles away,  
Perhaps on Larn with Tawl and Jack,  
Or even in Bren,  
Where the pickings aren't too bad,  
And the food is better.  
  
But I had a job to do.  
For Tawl, of course.  
And I suppose Jack would appreciate it, as well.  
(He'd better!)  
So I squared my shoulders,  
Took a deep breath,  
And hit the archbishop with a mallet.  
  
Well, figuratively speaking.  
Actually, I just blackmailed him.  
Which is to say,  
I hit his contingency with a mallet.  
(Which I suppose hurt more than any whack to his head would have.)  
And I got results!  
(Naturally!)  
...Tawl had better appreciate this! 


	11. To My Son

Melliandra talking to her son.  
  
To My Son  
  
I never knew you would be so perfect.  
So full of life,  
So small.  
  
When they took you away I felt empty.  
Living for nothing,  
Already dead.  
  
You were there in my times of deepest need.  
Keeping me sane,  
Banishing loneliness.  
  
You are my everything, all I live for.  
And anything I can do for you,  
I will. 


	12. Unclean

A strange look into the mind of Kylock.  
  
Unclean  
  
White powder.  
Soft, almost transparent.  
Like snow.  
Snow that is pure and clean.  
Falling gently to the ground.  
Pristine white.  
Until it is covered in blood.  
  
Human blood.  
Vibrant red,  
Greedy for more of its kind.  
Tainted red blood.  
Curses running through my veins,  
My veins, blue on my skin.  
Blue like the sky.  
  
The sky.  
Covering man,  
Seeking to hide them from themselves,  
From God.  
And yet darkening to nothing,  
Revealing tiny pricks of light, the eyes of God  
Peering out from blackness.  
  
Black sky.  
Falling, falling down towards me.  
Dragging the sins of man with it.  
And instead of redemption,  
I am brought down,  
With the sins of all encircling me,  
Into the bonds of death. 


End file.
